Rain, rain, come this day
by Zipper Whippersnapper
Summary: After a vanished child re-appears, the BPRD get a new member, one who may be a lot more powerful then he says he is. Rated T for possible language, HB's signature character, and a couple of bloodstained bits. Takes place in comicverse, possibly. Have fun!
1. Chapter 1: Call

_Albany, New York. November 1996._

_Quiet…Got to be quiet…_

Carefully, the ten-year old crept through his home. Tiptoeing up to the front door, he hesitated, pushing a lock of his blond hair out of his eyes. The flute-case rubbed against his back, the strap digging into his shoulders.

It was eerily silent in the single-story house, the quiet breathing of his parents drifting over to him in the velvety darkness. Rigel's face twisted.

_Do I really want to do this? _

No, he didn't want to leave his comfortable home. He was happy in this town, with loving parents, friends, and a dog. This life was all he knew, and all he wanted to know, for now.

But at the same time, he couldn't stay. Something was stirring deep inside him, something that filled his heart with warmth and resolve. Whatever that something was, it was making him leave.

_No! I'm not leaving! I belong __here__, and I'm not going!_

Rigel whirled and started to walk back to his room. Suddenly, the strange warmth jumped from his heart. Flying up his spine, it burst behind his eyes into a cacophony of images and voices.

_Crops dying in dried-up fields, failed marriages, abandoned children, sickness, death, pain. _

People needed him. He may not know why, or what he could do to help, but he had to go. He had to do something. Turning back to the door, Rigel opened the door, slipped outside, and closed it behind him. He walked down the driveway to the sidewalk.

Looking up one last time at his home, Rigel sighed. He began to run.

_Somewhere in Mexico. Five years later_.

Stretching, the wiry teen yawned. Unfolding himself from the little camping cot that the villagers had been so kind to let him use, he blinked. "Well, it's hot out." And so it was. The cheap little thermometer hanging by the small window was already up to the hundred-degree mark. The heat in the spare room would be stifling if he wasn't already used to it.

He swung his feet over the side of the cot. Reaching down, he picked up his only pair of blue jeans. They'd gotten small over the years as he had grown taller. Now, they looked more like capris then pants.

_Oh well. Capris are practical around here anyway. It's not like it's going to snow anytime soon._

Pulling on his pants and worn T-shirt, Rigel stood. Looking around, he couldn't find his sneakers anywhere. That was strange. He was sure he'd put them right next to his flute stuff…

His eyes traveled to the black box case. That was still there, from when he'd put the flute back in after playing for those little kids at the church last night. Picking it up, he slung it over his shoulders. Making sure the room was neat and orderly, he strode outside. "Excuse me. Has anyone seen–"

_WUMP!_

Rigel walked into a young woman standing just outside where he'd slept. She immediately blushed, backing away and stammering. "S-so sorry, M-m-mister Kokopelli, sir." Rigel rubbed his shoulder. "It's okay. It was just an accident. Hey, you're Miss Rosa's daughter, right?" "Y-yes." He smiled. "Your mother was very kind to let me stay for the night." The girl blushed even more, her tanned skin turning pink. "It was nothing, Mister Kokopelli." "I wouldn't say that. I got a good night's rest because of your family's kindness."

The girl smiled. Then, she flinched, gasping. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten!" She pressed a pair of brown moccasins into his hands. "This is from us. My mother saw how worn your shoes were, and made these. Please accept them as thanks for bringing rain to our farm."

Rigel blinked, looking at the moccasins. "They're very nice." Bending down, he pulled them on. They fit perfectly. "Thank you very much."

After thanking the Rosa family for their hospitality, the blonde teen set out on his way. After an hour of walking, he lost sight of the farm. Sitting down on the side of the road, he thought for a moment. _Where should I go next? _There was always Texas or Nevada… but he'd already been there twice in three months. In fact, he'd been everywhere in the area in the past three months.

An idea soon struck. He'd go and check on his parents. After all, he had left so long ago. Yes, he'd go back to New York, and see how his parents were faring.

Getting up, Rigel pointed his face to the North and began to walk, whistling merrily.


	2. Chapter 2: Encounter

_Snow. I must be getting close._

Rigel crunched through the stuff. To tell the truth, he didn't like it a bit. It wasn't like rain, which was warm and gentle. _His_ rain nourished plants; it didn't lock them under a deathly blanket of killing cold. He walked underneath a sign on the side of the road. Pausing, he backtracked, blinking up at it.

**Welcome to New York, the Empire State.**

A huge pile of snow was balanced precariously on top. Rigel stayed far away from it. He was cold enough already, and didn't relish the thought of having it land on him. Picking his way around it, he jumped back, startled, as a grey blur sped past him. He smacked against the sign. Immediately, he was covered in cold, crystalline whiteness. _Great._

Clearing the snow away from his eyes, he saw a truck pull over. The door opened, and a figure stepped out. Rigel gaped when he saw the man's features.

He had red skin, and was wearing a pair of dark pants and a trench coat. He had to be at least six- five, and there were two circular stumps—were those from _horns_?—on his forehead. A huge hand made out of rock clenched as he looked around. Rigel shivered.

He could sense potential in that hand. Potential to end. Everything.

The man bolted over into a growth of trees on the side of the road, in the same direction the grey thing had gone. The leaves rustled as they moved to let him in.

Rigel decided to shadow this strange man for a bit. He was very close to where his parents lived, and this way, he could help anyone who got hurt. He stepped into the forest.

It was eerily quiet. All the normal forest sounds he'd heard while walking were gone.

_Is this the cold? Or that thing?_

_**Screeechhh! Grrrrrr!**_

The grey blur was back, this time knocking him down and leaping up into a tree. Quickly getting to his feet, Rigel saw the thing materialize into a grotesque, fanged creature. Burning eyes locked on him, and a pair of dripping fangs opened inside a bloodstained maw. This thing had _definitely_ hurt someone.

Concentrating, Rigel readied himself. _Perhaps rain will calm it down? Frighten it? _

The creature lunged for him, howling. Sidestepping and breathing out, Rigel sent a flurry of…

snow.

_No! It's too cold here! My rain is freezing! Wait. That could be it, I only need to--_

Growling, the creature clawed at Rigel, leaving two big scratches on his arm. Wincing, he ducked for cover, mentally scanning the sky for any suitable areas with moisture.

_Got one. _Rigel concentrated, sending down frozen spikes of compacted rain and snow. The first few missed the mark, but the creature couldn't escape the dozens falling from the sky. Three hit it in the head and neck. Shrieking, it fell to the ground. It twitched once, and then lay still.

Carefully, he let the clouds overhead dissipate. You couldn't be too careful. The last time he'd just let them go, they'd smacked right into a plane. What a mess that was.

A rustling noise interrupted Rigel's thoughts. Was there another one of those things? Creeping over to the source of the noise, he prepared to strike--

_**Wham! **_All of a sudden Rigel was falling down, down, down…

"Ah, shit." Hellboy looked over at the crumpled teen lying in the snow. A good deal of blood was leaking down his face. "Manning's gonna kill me for this."


	3. Chapter 3: Detour

****Sorry for the wait people. I wrote this chapter about two days ago, then checked it and saw everyone was OOC. I had to check the character stats and make sure everything was cannon. Bleah. Hope I got it right…**

**Anyway, enjoy, and don't forget to review!!! I love knowing people read my work!! *********** **

**(PS, apparently I also have to say that no one except Rigel and maybe some other OCs belongs to me.)**

Hellboy stomped out of the forest, fuming. The kid was slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, blood dripping down his face. Hellboy could smell it all over himself. _Crap. Now I look like I freakin' killed the guy._

Abe Sapien was examining one of the tracks left by the creature they'd been sent to get. "Hmm… I'd have to say wendigo, though it could be some form of yeti…" He looked up. "Have you gotten the—_what did you do_?"

Hellboy dumped the blonde-haired teen into the snow. "It was an accident, alright?! I'm already going to have Manning chewin' me fer this, so shut up and keep 'm alive." He turned back. "I'm goin' to get that stupid wendigo." Abe walked over to the kid. "You didn't kill it?"

"No. That kid killed it. Just stop the bleeding." The demon stumped off into the thick growth of trees, muttering angrily about accidents and unfair punishments.

_That kid killed it._

That was strange, to say the least. Taking out a sponge from his first-aid kit, the blue-skinned man carefully wiped the already-drying blood off of the boy's face. _Crude, but hopefully effective._ He gently pried open one of his eyelids.

A metallic grey eye, shining in the dimming northern light, warmly stared back at him.

Startled, Abe flinched back. He only drew near again once he realized the eye was unfocused. _The poor kid probably has a concussion,_ he thought. _Why can't Hellboy __**look**__ where he's punching? _The ichiyo sapien lifted the blonde into the back of the truck, setting him down gently on a fold-down cot inside.

"Jeez, this thing smells even worse when it's dead." Hellboy dragged the punctured grey mass out from the trees. Kicking some snow away, he dumped the carcass, along with some branches, in a heap. Flicking open his lighter, he set the thing on fire. Almost instantaneously, a cloud of horrific-smelling smoke enveloped him. "Shit." He stepped away.

"So. Find out who the kid is?" Hellboy sidled away from the burning wendigo. Abe shook his head. "Not really. There's no driver's license, school identification, library card—nothing. However, I did find this." He held out a tattered business card.

**Flute retailers, USA**, it said. A hastily scribbled note was at the bottom of the page. The demon read it aloud. " 'Rigel, no more impacts to flute in the future, and don't forget to polish it'." He raised a hairless brow. "That doesn't help us. The kid don't have a flute."

"He has a flute case, though the flute is missing. I'd say he lost it while you carried him here."

Hellboy shrugged. "Ah well. He'll just have to be thankful he's alive." He paused. "He is alive, right?"

"Don't worry. As much as you tried, the kid is still alive. We should get him back to headquarters, though." Abe got into the truck. "Quickly." Hellboy clambered in after him. "Would ya quit it with the murder remarks? It was an accident!"

The first thing Rigel became aware of was the fabric wrapped around his body. Skirting the barrage of pain in his head, he tried to come up with a name for it. _Blanket? _Yeah, that was probably it. Blanket.

_Wait. I was in the woods. Where did the blanket come from?_

_Where am I?_

Cracking open one eye, Rigel stared up at the roof of a truck. Rolling the eye over—he wasn't exactly up for opening the other one—he blearily gazed at two figures who were driving the truck. One was blue, the other red.

_Red? Like that man who hit me? Oh, this could be bad…_

Rigel hastily sat up. An explosion of pain and light came directly after that. "Owww…" Rigel leaned against the side of the moving truck, massaging his scalp. "Owowowow_ow_."

The red man looked back. "Hey, yer up." His voice was husky and rough. "How ya feelin' kid?"

"As if I got hit with a brick. Why did you hit me?"

The blue-skinned man, who smelled and looked oddly like an humanoid fish, made a small noise that could have been a cough or a stifled laugh. Glaring at him, the demon-man scowled. "It was an accident. I was lookin' for a wendigo, and ya got in the way."

It was definitely the same man Rigel had decided to shadow before. The same energy evident in his movements was reflected in the speech and eyes now. Feeling his trust factor kick in, Rigel blinked. "Oh. Was that the grey thing?" "Yep."

Rigel stared outside for a couple of seconds. "What's your name?"

"Abraham sapien-Abe." That was the fish-like blue man. The demon-man narrowed his eyes. "Hellboy."

"Interesting names." Rigel smiled. Hellboy looked away. "Yeah, sure, Rigel." Rigel felt his grin dissipate a bit. "It's pronounced Ree-gull. Not Ri-gel."

"What kinda name is 'ree-gull'?"

"What kind of a name is Hellboy? No offense." Seeing the exasperation on Hellboy's face, Rigel decided to stay quiet for a bit. He shifted over a bit, so he could look out the window without hurting his still-aching head. He didn't recognize any of the landmarks they were passing. "Where are you taking me?" The question slipped out.

"The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense." Abe Sapien spoke this time.

"I've never heard of it."

"Yer not supposed to have, kid."

Slightly unsettled, Rigel fell quiet again. He still trusted the pair. His trust factor, which came when he was around certain people, had never been wrong before. But still…there was something that was tugging at his mind. Thinking, Rigel tried to figure out what. Finally, after what seemed to be an hour, it hit him.

Fingers trembling, he pulled the flute case from his back.

The familiar plastic-and-metal was bent and crushed in on itself. Apprehension building inside him, he pried it open, peering inside.

"Where's my flute?"

Abe looked into the rear-view mirror. "There was no flute when Hellboy brought you to the truck. You must have lost it somewhere in the woods." Catching a glimpse of the sadness on Rigel's face, he frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Rigel lied, slumping down. He was sad that the flute was gone, sadder then he had ever been. It was his only real remnant from childhood, before the Call came. And with being taken to this Bureau, it meant he had even less to remember his parents by.

He silently grieved until sunny-warm logic came to his mind. He had other ways of expressing the music inside him, though none were as good as the flute. And he still knew his family. He would survive.

The truck came to a halt. Jolted out of his thoughts, Rigel looked up. "Where are we?

"BPRD headquarters. Now come on, kid."

***Yay! An actual long chapter! Also, I decided to take a leaf from 'Tarja the wind witch' (Because I ****love**** her writing! You rock, Tarja! Oh, that was awkward…)and give you guys out there a chance to guess what and who Rigel is, just for fun. Anyway, please review, and take a shot at guessing if you want. I'll hopefully have the next chapters out this week, but I've got essays due at school, so who knows? Adios!* **


	4. Chapter 4: Bewilderment

**Well, after a rather long vacation from this story, I've finally managed to get my cards in order and let Rigel work his way back into my muse. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and please review! I'm going to try to include more of the comicverse characters, but as I haven't read a lot of them lately, I'd appreciate it if anyone let me know if I'm making anyone OOC.**

**DISCLAIMER: Rigel, as well as a few OCs to come, are the only characters that belong to me. Hellboy, Liz, Abe, and the whole BPRD gang belong to Dark Horse Comics.**

"Whoa." Rigel peered down the laminated hallway, eyes wide and unblinking. He felt an overwhelming urge to pinch himself; this couldn't possibly be real. The compound had been imposing at ground level, when he'd stumbled out of the truck into chilly air and dreary, grey-shroud skies. It had been incredible when he'd walked inside and had been made to stand on a strange emblem of a fist and knife. And now, as the floor--the _marble floor_--moved slowly downwards to reveal an enclosure much bigger then the outside part, he was mind-boggled beyond all comprehension. This place was more exotic and bewildering then any place Rigel had traveled in his five-year excursion, but Abe and Hellboy seemed to take it in stride. The demon-man was currently behind him, his normal left hand half guiding, half holding him still. Abe was in front of Rigel, busily filling out some sort of papers.

_To think that all this time, this place has been hiding under the ground. _Rigel thought as the elevator reached the floor and ground to a halt. _It's incredible what humans can do when properly motivated. _Whatever this Bureau did, it had to be very important if they could afford such an amazing abode. What exactly _was_ these strange people's job, anyway? Something to do with dangerous creatures, perhaps? That would explain Hellboy's arrival just after that grey monster but what had happened to it after--

"Come on, kid. We don't have all day." Hellboy prodded the blonde-haired teen along. A few random agents looked strangely at the teen, face covered still in dried blood and nose beginning to puff up and bruise. Hellboy glared at them until, embarrassed and cowed, they went back to their work. Flanked by Abe--still scribbling away at the papers--the teen and demon made their way through tiled hallways full of glass cases until they came to a single door. Abe opened it, and the three walked inside.

It was a rather nice conference room, of sorts. A long table, rimmed by at least twenty leather chairs, sat in the middle of the room. Most of it was devoid of papers, except for the end farthest from them. There, a few neat little piles of books and files lay on the tabletop. A middle-aged woman sat in front of them, absorbed in an old-looking book. From what Rigel could make of the moth-eaten cover, it was in a different language.

Abe coughed quietly, just loud enough to get the woman's attention. "Kate?"

The woman looked up. "Oh, hello Abe, Hellboy. Did the wendigo job go okay?" She carefully marked her place in the book with an index card and closed it, setting it in the center of her various papers. Rigel noticed that the book had a few reddish stains on the cover, and felt queasy. He blinked and averted his eyes, trying not to look at them.

"Yeah, we got the wendigo. We picked up this kid on the way, too." Hellboy pushed Rigel forward slightly, bringing him to the woman's attention. "He's the one who actually killed the damn thing."

"Killed the wendigo…?" The woman's interest was immediately focused on the teen. "Hello, I'm Kate Corrigan. I work here, for the BPRD." She held out a hand. "What is your name?"

Rigel shook the proffered hand, smiling a bit. "I'm Rigel." A wave of pain suddenly spiked its way through his nose, catching him off guard and making him wince. "Pleased--ouch--pleased to meet you."

Kate, noticing the wince and blood, looked first at Rigel, then over his shoulder at Hellboy--who shrugged and momentarily clenched his stone hand--then Abe, whose eyes flicked in Hellboy's direction. She raised an eyebrow. "Tell you what, Rigel. How about we get that nose of yours checked out? Then we'll talk."

**Well, that's all for now. My muse has returned, however, so I'll be uploading again soon.**


	5. Chapter 5: Thoughts

_**Yes, yet another upload. I'm on a roll, people. **_

_**DISCLAIMER: Rigel says that I own him, but I'm not so sure if that's appropriate. However, I'm certain that Hellboy, BPRD, and all other comic and movie merchandise aren't mine. ^^;**_

_**Cleaning up, it seemed, involved not only a butterfly bandage over his tender, slightly swollen nose, but a warm shower. Rigel was led down yet more hallways to a kind of shower room, given soap and shampoo and told to leave his clothing outside the shower stall. The teen, curious and just a bit suspicious, had inquired why. **_

"_**Wait." He'd said quietly. "What's going to happen to my clothing?"**_

_**Hellboy simply chuckled. "Have you looked in a mirror, kid? Yer covered in blood an' yer clothes don't fit ya. We'll get some new clothing for ya."**_

_**Rigel blinked. "Oh…thank you…" With that, he'd stumbled into the stall and removed his clothing, leaving it out in an almost-folded pile. Though he was happy to be finally rid of it after five year's worth of wear and tear, he couldn't help but feel a small swirl of uneasiness. Along with his flute, all Rigel had carried during his wandering journey was the clothes on his back. Now that the flute was gone, all that remained from his life before, and during, the Call was his clothes. And he was about to get rid of that, when he didn't know what the BPRD would do with him. Oh, yes, they were to be trusted--he'd never been wrong about a matter such as that before--but judging by the woman's look of intense interest, he wouldn't be traveling for a while. Rigel remembered the laws here; no minors on their own…**_

_**It took a few moments to get the water running and at a suitable temperature, but finally he got the hang of it. Rigel analyzed where the water was landing in the stall and nodded to himself. Quickly, he opened the metal door a crack, peering out. No one was there, though he did hear footsteps down the hall. The teen snaked out an arm and snatched up the pair of moccasins, setting them down in a dry spot and closing the door with his foot. At least he'd have that one artifact while he flew headfirst into the unknown.**_

_**The water was nice, clean, and warm; a far cry from the river-water or rusted hotel-tap water he usually bathed in. Rigel would have liked to soak for as long as possible, but this wasn't the time. He scrubbed the dried blood off himself and lathered up his hair. It rinsed out two shades lighter then he thought it normally was. Slightly amused, Rigel turned off the water and poked his head out of the shower. His clothing was gone, excepting the moccasins, of course, and in their stead lay a folded towel and some kind of uniform. Rigel wrapped the towel around his head. He picked up the clothes and stood in the still-damp shower, shivering in the sudden draft of cold air. Putting them on, he noted that the shirt had the same emblem that was on the floor when he'd walked in--that was the BPRD's symbol, wasn't it? The pants were black and had very deep pockets; they'd be great for carrying things in, if Rigel had had anything to carry with him. Both shirt and pants were made out of some kind of thick cloth material, and fit him rather well. Rigel pulled on the moccasins, none the worse for their time in the shower stall, and walked out of the shower room. The teen noticed a mirror as he strode towards the door and paused to examine his reflection.**_

_**A wiry, tanned face stared at him from the polished glass-and-silver. It moved closer as he leaned in to take a closer look at his nose, which was purplish and about twice its normal size under the bandage, a bruise in the middle of his head. Two grey eyes rimmed with premature crows feet blinked as a crop of matted hair stayed plastered to his skull like crushed, sun-bleached wheat. Rigel hadn't really looked in a mirror much for the past five years--why would he, when there were farms to be watered and towns to help?--but now that he was doing so, he couldn't help but be hypnotized by the strangeness of his own expressions. Did the corners of his mouth really twitch that much, or was it some trick of the mirror? Was he seeing himself correctly? **_

"_**Hey, kid. You done?" The rough voice outside snapped Rigel out of his reverie. Somewhat ashamed and frightened, he picked the towel up from where he'd dropped it by the mirror and skittered out the door.**_

"_**I'm here. Thanks." Rigel smiled, grateful for the chance to clean himself up. The towel dragged a bit on the floor as he closed the door behind him.**_

_**Hellboy eyed the bit of wet fabric. "You can leave the towel inside."**_

"_**Oh--okay." Rigel nudged the door open, folding the towel and leaving it on the floor in front of the mirror. He walked outside for the second time and pulled the door shut. **_


	6. Chapter 6

_Heck, I know this has been a while since I updated, but I'd really like to start over with this story. I didn't like the way it was going. So, I'll be rewriting the entire thing—starting over, with a new timeframe and a slightly renovated version of Rigel. _

_I hope I didn't lose too many readers, but if you are reading this message please review and let me know if you think there's anything else I should change! I appreciate the input._


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